Duke and I had a conversation, earlier tonight, about the things that have been on my mind, but I don't talk about easily. He left and I cried. I understand his being tired and not feeling well, though. But, there are a lot more things that have been on my mind than what I told him. Well maybe not a lot of other things, but more details to add to what he knows of my tension. I would've liked for him to stay, if for nothing more than someone to hold on to.
I don't share most of my thoughts or emotions with anyone. I just don't know that anyone else needs to know about certain things that run through my head on a daily basis. I actually prefer it that way. It keeps life less complicated. That and I'd likely be in a padded room if any of my madness really leaked out.
It's easy to glaze over detail when my emotions come into play. I hate the complication that comes with being an emotional person. It makes me furious that I've come so far from being an emotional void to being one big fucking wreck. I'm facing another break, I suppose. But that's not what bothers me the most.
What's crawling under my skin currently is my own doubts and the fact that Duke is a far better person than I deserve, or have for the past few months. I'm not making any vile admissions in saying that. I truthfully don't have anything to confess, other than that I have doubts about my life. Serious doubts about the emotional facet of my life. I'm even dancing around the topic in a journal... how fucking theraputic.
I really need to talk to someone, but I can't think of a single, solitary person that I actually want to open up to, on this. I guess I'm searching for answers that I don't necessarily want. Maybe it's my own masochism speaking, but I'm too stubborn to sit around and be angst-ridden. That's for HotVomit so-goth-I'm-dead types and no-talent girl rockers like Kitty. I had to push myself through things like this, and I have to do it alone due to my own reservations... that and the fact that I don't like hurting the people that I hold dear in life.
I won't go into much further detail than the above vague representation of my thoughts. The inner workings of my head is not a friendly, happy playground for the voyeuristic tendencies of my fellow SG-pornmonkeys. It's actually rather dark in here... My very own obliette. A place for forgetting, so I can shove it all back and pretend that nothing is amiss.
I miss something that I just need to let go of. But I'm not sure if I can, or if I want to. Poetic and angst-ridden moment there. Could've been lyrical, had I cared. Maybe the honest truth of it is that I'm just too fucked up for love.
I don't share most of my thoughts or emotions with anyone. I just don't know that anyone else needs to know about certain things that run through my head on a daily basis. I actually prefer it that way. It keeps life less complicated. That and I'd likely be in a padded room if any of my madness really leaked out.
It's easy to glaze over detail when my emotions come into play. I hate the complication that comes with being an emotional person. It makes me furious that I've come so far from being an emotional void to being one big fucking wreck. I'm facing another break, I suppose. But that's not what bothers me the most.
What's crawling under my skin currently is my own doubts and the fact that Duke is a far better person than I deserve, or have for the past few months. I'm not making any vile admissions in saying that. I truthfully don't have anything to confess, other than that I have doubts about my life. Serious doubts about the emotional facet of my life. I'm even dancing around the topic in a journal... how fucking theraputic.
I really need to talk to someone, but I can't think of a single, solitary person that I actually want to open up to, on this. I guess I'm searching for answers that I don't necessarily want. Maybe it's my own masochism speaking, but I'm too stubborn to sit around and be angst-ridden. That's for HotVomit so-goth-I'm-dead types and no-talent girl rockers like Kitty. I had to push myself through things like this, and I have to do it alone due to my own reservations... that and the fact that I don't like hurting the people that I hold dear in life.
I won't go into much further detail than the above vague representation of my thoughts. The inner workings of my head is not a friendly, happy playground for the voyeuristic tendencies of my fellow SG-pornmonkeys. It's actually rather dark in here... My very own obliette. A place for forgetting, so I can shove it all back and pretend that nothing is amiss.
I miss something that I just need to let go of. But I'm not sure if I can, or if I want to. Poetic and angst-ridden moment there. Could've been lyrical, had I cared. Maybe the honest truth of it is that I'm just too fucked up for love.